


Tremble

by WrongRemedy



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dom/sub Undertones, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Slight in that Alex never calls him daddy, So take that as you will, but George does call him my boy and baby boy, slight daddy kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 06:33:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6504619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WrongRemedy/pseuds/WrongRemedy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pretty much just straight up desk!porn with some discussions of weakness thrown in for the banter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tremble

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smilingsarah10](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smilingsarah10/gifts).



> First of all, forgive me for the title. I am trash at them and neither of the uses of the word "weak" from the show worked.
> 
> Second, in this story George is...some kind of politician! You decide! Governor of Virginia? Senator? Congressman? President? Who knows? Not me! All I know is that he still owns Mount Vernon (let's call it a family estate) and Alex is his husband. The fic makes no explicit mention of marital status but the thought makes me happy so that's what we're going with. I may or may not someday write a background story for this that includes worldbuilding. For now, let's just enjoy the porn.
> 
> Also we're ignoring the line from the show when Alexander literally says "I was weak" because, well. Handwave. Maria Reynolds very firmly never happened in whatever AU this is, nor did Eliza (at least not as Alex's wife). So. Onward.

The night outside the windows of Mount Vernon is peaceful, calm, and as cool as it ever really gets during a Virginia summer. Inside the house, Alexander Hamilton feels anything other than peaceful, calm, and cool as George Washington has him bent over the front of the desk in one of the offices, and is working him over in ways that still make Alex see stars despite the number of years they’ve been together.

Alex can feel his legs shaking underneath him as George thrusts, slow but deep; long, powerful pulls out of his body that mean Alex feels every inch of the burning slide he craves, followed by the smooth roll of George’s hips as he returns home, fucks himself back into Alex where he belongs. God, Alex is falling apart.

“You’re shaking,” George says, crushing his chest against Alex’s back, flicking his tongue against Alex’s ear before huffing the observation out in a husky near-whisper into the skin of Alex’s neck.

“Yes,” Alex groans in response, closing his eyes and letting his mouth drop open, swept away by the torrent of sensation.

“Why is that?” George chuckles, pressing a kiss to Alex’s shoulder blade before straightening back up and gripping Alex’s hips harder in order to lessen the effort required of Alex.

“Because,” Alex pants, grateful for George’s hands, for his strength, for his care, for everything that George is. “Because you make me weak.”

George growls suddenly, slamming into Alex much harder than before. “Wrong,” he barks, sounding like a battlefield order. Alex thinks wildly, not for the first time, that in another life George probably made an excellent military commander.

“Wrong?” Alex whimpers, hating to disappoint George, hating to upset him.

George’s pace returns to that gloriously torturous thing from before as he threads one hand through Alex’s loose hair and tugs, making Alex gasp raggedly.

“You’re _never_ weak,” George says, what is usually an edge of authority firmly in the forefront of his voice now. “Nothing and no one can do that to you. Not to my stubborn boy.”

Alex whines again, higher, sharper, more pitiful. He knows as soon as George says it that he’s right. Even like this, strung out on pleasure and submission, Alex knows himself; knows he is an inferno that refuses to be blown out by any wind or rain. Alexander Hamilton has been a lot of things in his lifetime, but weak has never been one of them.

“Yes,” Alex cries again, desperate. “You’re right, Sir. You’re right.”

George gentles his hand in Alex’s hair, cupping the back of his head and petting instead of pulling, a reward for Alex’s cooperation. Alex nearly sobs, he is so overcome with love.

“Say it,” George says, snapping his hips again in an echo of the more brutal pace he’d briefly set before.

“You don’t make me weak,” Alex says obediently, knowing it is what George meant.

“Again,” George orders, upping the force of the corresponding thrust yet again. It’s a new pattern, Alex realizes. Slow until he gives an order, then abrupt, bruising until Alex replies. It keeps Alex on his toes, always on the precipice of satisfaction. Alex loves it. He never wants it to stop.

“No one makes me weak,” Alex replies, his voice gaining confidence now that he knows he’s doing well, doing what George wants.

“One more,” George tells him, a hand slipping around to the front of Alex’s body via his shoulder, one of George’s huge palms settling against Alex’s throat. He doesn’t squeeze. He doesn’t have to to drive Alex crazy.

“I am never weak,” Alex growls, fierce, spat with the force of his own conviction in the statement. George moves his hand from Alex’s neck to grip his chin, wrenching his face to the side enough that George can press as close as possible to him and kiss him on the mouth, forceful and loving in equal measure.

“You’re right,” George tells him, smirking, eyes locked onto Alex’s as he echoes his own words back to him. He’s still fucking him, trailing kisses and nips down Alex’s throat and around to the back of his neck, shifting Alex’s dark hair out of the way to make a path for his lips.

“I don’t make you weak,” George mutters against Alex’s back as his thrusts pick up speed but lose some of their practiced rhythm. George is close to coming, and Alex whines with the knowledge. He’s been close since George started stripping him, and God knows how long ago that was. He’s always close with George, ready to fly off on a hair trigger the second they begin. He’s just learned to deny himself until he’s allowed to let go.

“I don’t make you weak, baby boy,” George repeats, the addition of the endearment making Alex shudder even more, as if his body is trying to make a liar of George even as the man speaks.

George leans in from the other side, hot breath and wet lips suddenly playing at the opposite ear and side of his neck from before. It’s a simple switch in sensation, one that shouldn’t feel so violently, incredibly good but somehow _does_ , God, how does George _do_ that?

Alex pants and finally gets brave enough to brace his palms on the desk and misbehave a little, pushing himself back into the slamming of George’s hips, taking a tiny bit of control over the proceedings, forcing them together that much harder because there’s nothing he loves more than when it hurts a little. George either doesn’t notice or decides to be merciful, and either way Alex counts himself very lucky because it feels so damn _good_ that he may just be dying.

“I make you _tremble_ ,” George finally finishes the thought that prompted all of this, gritted out through his teeth as he thrusts one last time and comes inside Alex. Alex absolutely _wails_ and shoves one hand between them, stroking himself exactly once before shooting all over the front of the desk and slumping, totally exhausted, against it while George pulls out and regains his breath behind him.

Alex wipes the sweat from his forehead with his clean hand and huffs, an impressed smile starting to twist at his lips. “You’re right,” he repeats again, and hears George chuckle behind him. The sound makes him grin outright.

“Damn right,” George says, smirk evident in his voice, and Alex just hangs his head, laughing over the top of the desk.

**Author's Note:**

> Catch me talking about Hamilton/In the Heights on tumblr @regards-to-abigail  
> Catch me talking about millions of other fandoms on tumblr @stutter-startle


End file.
